A Lullaby For The Lifeless
by Svetlana Morealt
Summary: Piers Nivans finds himself trapped somewhere between life and death, dwindling at the edge of sanity as the world rushes by and he is left as little more than an observer. He struggles to cope and searches for a way back into his old life, or to finally uncover some sort of peace in death. Instead, he only finds more suffering in the shape of the man he left behind. Nivanfield.
1. Unseen, Unheard, Unknown

**A/N: Decided to try something new with more of a supernatural touch to it. It's only a basic idea at the moment, so I'm not fully sure where this will end up going. I've seen a few other ghost!Piers fics, but they were all one-shots and never went too far.**

* * *

Dying wasn't such a scary thing.

It was the darkness that came after.

Piers Nivans had chosen to sacrifice himself for the sake of his Captain. While Chris had floated to safety inside the escape pod, Piers had remained there in that underwater facility, trapped in an explosion that took away his life. Yet, it hadn't been the end he imagined it would be.

Trembling, spinning, suffocating.

All through a blanket of nothingness.

Piercing eyes had fluttered, opening with their original hazel hue in shade as opposed to the mismatched pair the infection had given him. Piers felt... _Normal_. As though the needle had never broken through his skin, nor had the injection ever been inserted into his blood stream.

Where was he...?

The world seemed to shift around him, places, people, all fading to one large blur as things sped by him. It confused him, shouldn't he be dead? Reality distorted itself, twisting and winding in ways that had his sanity cracking.

Then it stopped.

Just like that, the setting had become a familiar one. An office, located at base. His _Captain's_ office.

The door opened and voices resounded, both of which had Piers spinning on a heel with wide eyes.

"You can't keep turning them all down, Chris."

"Jill, none of them have the skill set I'm after."

Piers had perked up, even held out a hand as his mouth opened to speak; to say something to Chris and let him know he was _there_, that he was _back_-

But Chris had walked right through him.

Piers couldn't contain the gasp as it happened, turning again to look behind him at his Captain who settled himself down in his chair. Chris hadn't noticed him... He had _phased_ directly through his body. That couldn't mean what Piers thought it did... Could it? He was there, alive, wasn't he? Yet... The explosion at the underwater facility, Piers had been caught inside of it with no way of escaping. So how was he still there? Unless...

Long legs carried Piers closer, around the side of the desk next to his Captain. He reached out a hand, ready to place it on the older man's shoulder... But instead of the contact he expected, his limb had once more phased through. Piers retracted, backing away with wide eyes. It wasn't possible... It couldn't be real, surely.

"That's because none of them are him," Jill's voice had the ace snapping back to reality, hazel orbs darted between the two who were oblivious to his existence.

Chris snapped at that, "We're done here." It had always been a sensitive subject. July 1st, 2013. The day had haunted him endlessly in his dreams. He didn't need to be reminded of it constantly throughout the day as well.

"Chris-"

"I said we're done, Jill." Chris would have none of it.

The brunette eyed him, a look between something resembling annoyance and something more... _Sad_, almost. She understood what loss felt like. "Ignoring what happened won't help you get over it. You know where to find me if you change your mind and want to talk." With that, she turned and exited through the same door she'd come from.

Piers allowed his gaze to settle back onto Chris, who slumped in his chair with his hands cupped over his face. "Damn it," He cursed quietly, only slightly muffled behind his palms before they lowered. Chris appeared... Exhausted. Overwhelmed. Unhealthy.

He looked _horrible_.

"...Captain?" Piers tried, but just as he thought, Chris didn't act like he'd heard the sound. Plump lips dropped into a downward curl; Piers was confused, lost. He didn't know what was happening. "Captain!" The title was spoken louder this time, more hopeful. _Desperate_.

Still, Chris didn't even seem to notice him... What was happening?

Bow shaped lips pursed together, forming a tight line as Piers reached out toward his Captain, hand extended a second time only to be met with the same reaction as the first as it passed directly through Chris. Piers waved the arm, curled his fingers, and still they touched nothing but air even though his Captain was right there... Chris was solid, sitting in the chair, touching his desk, but Piers... Piers retracted and tried something new by attempting to press his palm against the computer nearby, only to watch it pass through the monitor just as it had with everything else. Piers stepped back, eyes of hazel, no longer mismatched, now even more wide and worried as they gazed down over his fingers.

Piers couldn't even feel his own heartbeat.

Nor was he breathing, because the dead had no use for air.

But his limbs did shake. They trembled at the realization of being caught in between. He wasn't alive, but he was still there which meant he couldn't possibly be entirely dead either. He was stuck in the middle, unable to be seen or heard nor was he at rest.

His right hand flickered, an image of the grotesque mutation from the time of his death revealed itself momentarily, eliciting a soft gasp from the sniper at the suddenness before it faded from view. Piers was confused and at a loss of what to do - what _could_ he do?

Hazel eyes returned to his Captain, who seemed to be staring at nothing in particular. Yet, he was there. At base, on the job. He had chosen to stay with the B.S.A.A. just as Piers had wanted him to. Chris was attempting to keep his position, although the fight was a hard one and the events of China had visibly left their mark. But Chris was alive and physically well, battling against the tides of bioterrorism as he should be. It didn't mean his mental state was flawless, it didn't mean he wasn't suffering. His outlook was proof enough that he was.

Piers lowered his hands from his field of view, plump lips once again curved at their corners into the shape of a deepened frown. Had he done something wrong? Was the existence he was trapped within some sort of punishment? Was he forced to wander due to his newly infected nature? Yet, why did he appear mostly normal, aside from the flicker he'd only recently witnessed? He had so many questions, and no one to answer them.

Chris shifted in his chair, causing hazel to blink and focus outside of the sniper's own thoughts. Chris lifted himself back to his feet and started toward the door with heavy footsteps. Piers, seeing no other option, trailed behind the man as he exited the room out into the hall. Chris made a stop at the locker room to grab his jacket, leaving the rest of his fatigues minus the protective vest in place without a concern as he left with every intention of getting out of that base.

"Chris!" Called a voice from behind, and although the Captain hadn't bothered to turn, Piers offered a glance over his shoulder to see Jill. "Chris, where are you going? We still have files to go over-"

"I'll be back." The Captain cut her off, his voice stern. "We have plenty of time, Jill. I need the break." Chris increased his pace slightly at that, and Jill slowed to a halt to watch him go. Piers eyed her for a few moments as she faded from view, but hazel soon returned to the familiar form of his Captain as they stepped outside. The skies showed no indication of the time as rain poured from above, dampening the mood as Chris carried himself toward his vehicle. Piers paused as he got in, granted only a few moments to wonder if he could actually follow before the car was started. Given no more room for hesitation, the ace swallowed and planted a foot through the door before the rest of his body joined it.

All logic of physics seemed to die when Piers found himself able to take a seat inside. He didn't understand it anymore than he did the idea that he hadn't fallen through the floor like he managed to phase through everything else. Reality had become a distorted mess, confusing and unknown, but as the car pulled out of the lot, Piers wasn't so dead set on questioning the things he would never have an answer to.

Hazel eyes observed the passing images outside the window as they drove in an uncomfortable silence. Of course it would be that way, given his current condition. Chris had no idea he was there, watching. _Following_. There was only the dull sound of windshield wipers as they swooshed back and forth over the glass, clearing it of the watery downpour that refused to stop. Chris exhaled beside him, the first noise Piers had heard him make outside of breathing since they'd started the drive. Piers glanced back toward the older man as the car slowed to a stop at a red light, observing the way those meaty hands clutched to the wheel.

Piers wished he could have done something.

Chris was tense. He was in pain, although it wasn't physical. He was having trouble coping again, but he tried so hard to stay strong. Piers was proud of the effort, glad that he hadn't resorted to the bottle like back in Edonia.

The car started to move, and Piers went back to staring out the window as the world passed them by. It wasn't until he saw the approaching cemetery that his brow had gained a slight furrow. The vehicle had pulled into the lot, driving through the lengthy roads inside until it had reached a certain spot, and Chris shut off the engine. Brown eyes slid closed tight, and Chris squeezed the wheel in an iron grip, even more strongly than before. Piers wanted to reach out, wanted to help to comfort the older man that he'd fought beside for so long and respected. But with a suddenness, Chris released his hold and opened the car door as his lids fluttered into a lift that revealed brown. The Captain didn't delay any further as he climbed out of the vehicle, and Piers followed behind him.

The rain that cascaded around them only added to the gloom of the situation as Chris trudged through wet grass in search of a particular grave with Piers at his heel. The sniper stopped only when his Captain did, and had he still been able to breathe, his breath would have caught in his throat. Gazing downward, his own name met him from its place carved into stone. Chris collapsed to his knees beside him, soaked from the downpour that refused to aid in washing away the hurt.

Piers should have felt cold, wet, but instead there had been nothing other than a shared pain for the way those brown eyes latched themselves to the written name. Hazel lowered to the wet green of the blades under their feet, helpless.

"I'm trying, you know."

The words had Piers lifting his gaze back to Chris. "Captain..." The ace uttered the word, even knowing it would go unheard as he took a step closer, hovering near the older man's side.

"It's not easy, though." Chris sounded torn. _Broken_. "You shouldn't have had to do it. You shouldn't have-" The words caught in his throat and he practically choked on them. He was a mess, but the rain washed away the evidence of forming tears as they pricked at the corners of his eyes. "It wasn't worth it. Nothing was worth it."

Hazel eyes closed as Piers listened, unable to offer comfort to the man he'd given his life to save. "You were," He whispered in reply, the voice only reaching his own ears.

"It's been a while. They had me put together another team again, but... I still haven't found a new A.T.L. yet." Chris snorted softly. Sadly. "You set the bar pretty high, and skills like yours are hard to come by." He was rambling now, seeking a comfort from the empty casket below the ground as the words fell from his lips.

Next to him, Piers felt himself break just a little more with every spoken sentence from his Captain. Hazel reopened to find the older man, a shared sorrow evident in their depths.

Chris began to falter, "It wasn't coming back alone that was the hard part, Piers." His voice cracked, skipped from a held back sob that wanted to make itself known. "It was coming back without you." Chris craned forward, burying his head in his hands as his teeth clenched, eyes dripping rivulets that poured down his cheeks with the rain. "I should have told you everything... But I waited too long, I never got the chance. I'm so fucking sorry, Piers." Although it wasn't a direct admission, Piers still understood the meaning behind it.

The vision of hazel started to blur, glazed over with their own tears. The once strong and proud man that Piers had served under was reduced to mush, all because of a decision that he had made for him. The ace always fought hard to keep his Captain safe, he wanted him to live even if Piers wasn't there with him... Chris had earned that right. But what he'd just admitted to, Piers had never known. He never dared to suspect it, even as Chris had pounded away at the glass that separated them in the sniper's final moments of life.

A heavy weight placed itself over his shoulders, and Piers felt his resolve cracking along with his Captain's. His feet guided him another step closer, "Captain-" Piers caught himself as he stared down at the older man. "Chris," He corrected, ghostly tears slipping free to cascade over olive skin. "I just wanted you to be safe. I didn't know, I never thought that-" Never thought that Chris could feel that way about him. Never thought he could want him, no matter how dedicated Piers had been. Chris had just confessed his feelings to an empty casket, yet the words had been heard the way they were meant to be. Piers wanted to be able to do something, wanted to touch Chris. To hold him right then and there, where he needed it the most. Piers had been responsible for his current state of being... But it wasn't what he planned on, it wasn't what he wanted when he sent that escape pod out into the ocean and off to safety.

Piers reached out with an unsteady hand, "I didn't mean for this..." His palm lowered itself over a shaking shoulder, and he _felt_ it. He felt the contact against wet clothing and the contours of solid muscle beneath it. Chris had dropped his hands to turn sharply with widened brown in search for whatever had caused it, but found nothing nearby him. Chris breathed heavily, his heart a pounding hammer that beat away at his chest cavity. The contact was real, it _had_ to be real, but he didn't find anything out of place in his field of view. No people, just the pouring rain and dancing trees that blew from the brush of wind.

Piers was as equally surprised next to him, hazel just as wide as brown as Chris lifted himself to his feet, staring right through the ace as though he wasn't there. "Chris!" The sniper exclaimed, hoping that he could hear as he tried to touch him again. His hand slipped right through like many attempts prior, shattering his hopes as he withdrew. Somehow, Piers had managed to make physical contact with Chris again; even if it hadn't lasted for more than a brief moment. He was able to feel the older man and be felt in return, but what had caused that time to be any different than all the others...?

"Piers?"

The sound of his name had the thoughts disappearing temporarily. "I'm here, Chris..." Piers uttered, voice still just as unheard as it had always been. "I'm here." He repeated, though it was more to convince himself that everything was in fact real. He was trapped.

Chris still couldn't see him.


	2. Death Is Unforgiving

**A/N: Had some early inspiration for this one. ;o**

* * *

Cold.

The air around them suddenly felt overbearing. Piers would have shuddered had he been able to feel, whereas Chris breathed out trails of fog. The older man should have been frozen over, but his body was already ice. It was haunting to see, and hurtful to be unable to do anything about it.

"I never left you, Chris. I don't-..." Piers paused as Chris lowered his gaze, he'd looked all across the cemetery but found no trace of another person to indicate what he'd felt. The expression over his features was enough to show the ace that Chris was at the brink of questioning his own sanity. "I don't want to." Piers finished with a deepened frown, utterly helpless to aid the older man.

Chris glanced over his shoulder to spare one last, longing look toward the stone. "I can't say things ever be the same, soldier. I'm sorry I couldn't bring you home." His world had long since crumbled away to ash the morning he'd been retrieved from the China waters alone. Every day was a new struggle, and it seemed only as though things continued to worsen. The Captain started a stride back toward his vehicle, and Piers was right behind him. The older man broke his pace a few times with slowed steps, where brown eyes roamed over some of the other graves nearby.

Finn, Andy, Carl, Ben. It had all started with them. Then there were others; Marco, Keaten, Jeff, Reid.

Death.

That was all that ever followed Chris Redfield, and his name should have been there with the rest.

The Captain had dived into battle many times and came out alive, but it was his men that had always paid the price. He wanted to give up, to turn tail and run from his tormented lifestyle. But it was that very same memory of all that he'd lost which would not allow him to do so, and thus he would carry on.

For his men, for humanity.

But mostly for Piers. His sacrifice would not be in vain, Chris would sooner die before he allowed that.

The Captain hurried past the last of the stones toward his car, he no longer wanted to be there with the graves that called out to him. He belonged under the ground with them, absent of the life he'd been gifted when theirs were taken so cruelly. He wasn't doing them any justice by standing over them, and yet he would always find himself there in that cemetery every day wishing for the impossible, wanting them all back, yearning to see brilliant hazel shimmer one last time.

Chris opened the door and sat inside, not at all concerned about his wet attire that drenched the seat with dripping water. Piers slid in alongside him, unsure what more he could say when he knew he could not be heard. Chris made no attempt to start the vehicle as he stared blankly out the front window that had been clouded over with the heavy rain. The silence was uncomfortable, it reminded Piers that he wasn't truly there or solid; he wasn't whole, and he hardly even existed. The sniper watched the older man, he felt the hurt that was so evidently radiating off of him in waves. Piers hated the helplessness, how he was so thoroughly trapped; able to see, but not able to _be_ seen. He could shout and scream and cry and beg all he wanted, but Chris would never hear him again. It didn't matter that they sat barely a few small feet apart, whatever Piers was now... It was a torment to them both.

"I wanted to come back with you," Piers had to say something, even if he was the only one the words would ever reach. He needed to speak, to pretend just for a moment that he could be heard again. "I didn't... I never would have thought that things could turn out like this." More than anything, he wanted to be able to feel Chris. Hold him, touch him, just talk for one last time; if Piers was to fade away forever, then he could accept it as long as he was able to do something, _anything_, just to reach out to the older man. He needed Chris to know, needed him to understand why he did it. They both shared feelings that the other hadn't been aware of, and now they were denied the chance to act on them.

Piers leaned over in his seat so he was closer to his Captain, "Just don't give up. I don't want you to live like this." Soft, almost pleading in tone. Seeing Chris so lost and broken while unable to do anything to help, it was all painful. The older man was vulnerable, a trait Piers never thought he'd ever see in him, and the fact that it was caused by the sniper only made things that much worse. Piers could have torn out his own heart then smashed it to mush, and he'd have felt better about it than he did in that very moment.

Chris sighed next to him as he raked a hand through his damp hair and tousled the short strands into an unkempt mess, before he finally started the vehicle and both of his palms found the wheel again. The drive back was just as quiet as the one out there, but Chris headed down a different road half-way toward the base. It was clear in his expression that he had no intention of heading back there like he'd told Jill, and Piers hoped he didn't plan on doing something idiotic. The thought was quick to die off when they arrived at what he _assumed_ was the Captain's house, the sniper had never actually been there before to confirm it. Not that he hadn't dreamed of Chris taking him to his home on many occasions in the past.

Chris wasted no time in getting back out of the car, and neither did Piers. The older man stopped at the stairs to the porch, in no rush to dive under the cover of his own roof and find a nice change of clothes. His head tipped back, brown eyes cast toward the sky as rivulets ran down his face to wash away all remnants of tears from earlier. The darkened skies flickered with lightning, and were it to strike him in that instance, Chris would feel no shame about dying in such a way. Thunder crackled, a powerful roar that rippled through the black clouds, all a perfect representation of his current mood.

The water was like the tears he so freely wept for his lost partner, a taste of his overwhelming sorrow for all that had left him. The lightning mimicked the electricity that cracked and popped along Piers' arm after he so willingly injected himself all to save Chris, who in no way deserved such unending loyalty. The thunder acted as his anger; the raging fires that burned within at himself and at that bitch Ada for all that she had taken away.

It was fitting for him to be there, under the pouring waters as the weather around him shared his pain. Chris could have drowned in it, were it possible.

Piers remained behind him, just as tormented as the older man. "Don't do this to yourself... Chris, please." It was killing him slowly to be stuck like that, to watch Chris as he suffered all because of a decision Piers had made to save him.

Chris didn't move, not until several minutes later when he finally relented to overexertion. It seemed like the troubles of his mind ate away at his stamina and drive, it made him weaker than when he was out on the field. Heavy footsteps carried him indoors, and he shrugged off his wet jacket to place it on a rack he passed by on his way to the living room. As a second thought, he paused to slip something out of the chest pocket and place it instead in one located in his pants before he proceeded onward; he didn't care that water dripped from the rest of his clothing down to the floor, he was practically dead on his feet already as he walked to the end of the room to take a turn down the hall toward his bedroom. The moment he was inside it, Chris collapsed onto the end of the mattress and removed his muddy boots. Socks followed immediately after, then his shirt. All of them were dropped to the floor in a careless heap with a pool of water forming beneath them.

Chris undid his belt and tossed it aside, before he climbed the rest of the way up the mattress toward the head board. His pants and skin were still soaked, but he couldn't find the willpower to do anything about it as he reached into a pocket to claim the very thing he'd taken from his jacket earlier. Piers slid on the bed beside him, still unsure how he even possessed the ability to do so. Hazel glanced toward the item Chris held in his hands, where a thumb roamed over the stitching. "...What did I do to you?" The ace couldn't help but wonder aloud as he immediately recognized the bloodied patch he had given Chris in his final moments.

A sudden ringing cut through the heavy silence, and both men winced at the sound. Chris reached back into his pocket for his phone and glanced at the screen; it was Jill, he should have expected as much. It rang again, and Chris contemplated on whether he should even bother to answer it. Upon the fifth ring, he finally hit the button to answer and placed the device to his ear. "I'm taking the rest of the day, Jill." He didn't hesitate to inform her of that, despite what he'd told her before.

"Chris, you said-"

"I know."

Chris heard a heavy exhale from the other end of the line, "Okay, I'll cover for you. I'm still here if you need to talk, you can't keep shutting everyone out." She meant well, she always did.

In his sorrow, Chris couldn't care less. The only thing that could ever set him back on his feet was long gone. "I'll see you tomorrow, Jill." He pulled the speaker from his ear and hung up just as Jill had started to say something else. He shut off the phone to avoid further bothering, and set it to the side on a small dresser out of the way.

Chris returned his attention to the patch in hand, wishing that he could feel the body it had once been connected to. Piers was gone, he knew there was nothing he could do to change that, but Chris was unable to let him go. Especially after what happened earlier that night; the feeling over his shoulder, it had all seemed so real even as he knew it couldn't have been.

Another roar of thunder rolled across the skies, and brown eyes lifted toward the window nearby. Chris almost missed being outside in that weather, it felt oddly comforting. Piers always liked the rain, before... Before everything went to hell. Chris wondered if he still would had he been there, considering all that had transpired in the underwater facility. Piers had never been one to let the hardships sway his view on things, however, so Chris wagered that the ace might have willingly stood out in the weather himself at that very moment, were he still alive. The pouring liquid would wet over his features and add a lovely glisten to olive skin. Normally spiked bangs that were almost never out of place would droop and fall over brilliant hazel, so sharp and attentive, so beautiful to look at. Those full, bow shaped lips would gain a slight curve, such a rare thing to see to from the young sniper, but it melted the Captain's heart every time he witnessed it.

Chris closed his eyes with the image captured in his mind. He would have given everything just to see Piers again, to tell him how he felt. He tilted his head back where it rested against the head board behind him. He was exhausted, but terrified to sleep for the images that haunted him were those of nightmares. Brown orbs fluttered, he knew he should try to stay awake but his body disagreed. Chris was slowly wearing himself down in his sorrow, and he could hardly prevent it as he started to doze.

Beside him, the sniper leaned in close with an outstretched hand. His fingers hovered inches away from lightly tanned features and paused there, as though afraid to make the attempt. "Chris..." He needed Piers, and Piers needed to reassure Chris... _Somehow_. The ace hesitated at first with slow movements that edged his hand toward his Captain's cheek.

Chris was at the brink of passing out, left to dwindle between the tides of being asleep and awake, where the world was close to fading and everything seemed surreal. He could have sworn he heard a familiar voice call out to him, perhaps the start of another dream.

_Chris..._

Piers. Why did it have to be Piers? He was so young, so talented. He had his entire life ahead of him and he gave it all up just to save Chris; to ensure that the battle scarred Captain made it out safely. Chris missed him, he longed for Piers more than he ever had anything else.

But then he felt it.

A light pressure against his face, a gentle caress.

He was positive it wasn't a dream, either.

Brown eyes shot open and Chris straightened himself to look around the room. It was empty, and he was just as alone as he had been ever since he left the base. It happened again, something strange. A touch from someone who wasn't there. It couldn't have been real, his mind had to have conjured it up; the human imagination was a powerful tool. Yet, he couldn't shake the odd feeling from the back of his mind that he wasn't actually alone.

Chris had to be losing his mind.

"You felt that again," It was stating the obvious, but Piers had been surprised by his actions for the second time that day. "I'm here, Chris! I'm _right_ here!" He was closer now, within an arm's length of the older man as he pleaded with him. It was driving him crazy and it left him frustrated. Piers didn't know what else he could do.

Chris breathed hard and leaned forward to rest his head in his hands. It wasn't real, it couldn't be. It was a cruel joke his own sanity decided to play on him. Maybe Jill was right; he really did need help. "What the hell is going on?" He whispered to no one in particular as he sought to calm his nerves.

Piers frowned beside him, "Chris, please..." His hopes began to crumble more and more.

_Chris, please..._

The Captain clutched fistfuls of his own hair as his teeth clenched tight. "Stop it!" He shot up from the mattress and rushed over to throw open the door and nearly sprint down the length of the hall. Piers watched him leave, hazel wide and worried as Chris left his line of sight. Did he...? It wasn't supposed to be like that! Piers was trying to contact Chris, not drive him insane!

The sniper wasn't sure how long he sat there in a mixture of crushed hopes and regret, the fact that Chris could have potentially heard him did not seem as appealing as Piers had thought it would be. Not when his Captain was so sure that he was losing his own mind. It left a wave of guilt over the ace's shoulders, but he couldn't give up. Chris had to know.

Hazel lowered to the sheets, where they came to a rest on the bloodied patch that was his own. It had fallen away when Chris sprung into a sit, and there it was left as a constant reminder to the sniper of his unfortunate fate.


End file.
